And Deep Inside You Will Bleed For Me
by Kajouka
Summary: FS Chapter 6 A sinister plot. What does Cherious Medical have planned?
1. Prologue: Fate Changes

AN: This is my first attempt at a Cowboy Bebop Fanfiction. I'm an avid Faye/Spike shipper, so expect that to run through this fiction.  
  
Credits and Disclaimers: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, the characters, or the theme. Shackled lyrics by Vertical Horizon – you'll see them throughout the fiction. Inspiration for this fiction comes from my own RPG experiences and She Wanted to Die by Sidewalk Serfer Girl, which is by far my favorite fanfiction.  
  
Beware the rating. When I say R, I mean it. I'm not shy about writing adult situations, sex, violence, etc, and there will probably be a lot throughout the fiction. I cuss a lot when I write too. You've been fairly warned. This will be no pretty fiction. And if you think what I write in this is bad, you haven't seen me roleplay.  
  
Moving on! Please read and review! I hope you enjoy. I've already got the basic plot outlined, but I'm not sure how long it will take to get through. I've already written some of the chapters, but for now, I've only posted the prologue, because I might still edit the chapters I've written.  
  
Thanks! Kajouka  
  
-- -- -- -- -- -- --  
  
"I'm not going there to die. I'm going to find out if I'm really alive."  
  
And as I watched him walk away, I felt a gut wrenching pain in my heart. I raised my gun up, but I couldn't bring myself to fire it at him. It would have done little good – even wounded, he would have left, and shooting him would have only given Vicious even more of an advantage. Instead, I pointed my gun at the ceiling, and fired off five shots, more out of frustration, and perhaps because I hoped that he'd turn around, one last time. Turn around and tell me that he'd be coming back for me. Turn around and tell me that he cared. Turn around and say the things I wanted him to say – things I needed him to say. I finally found my place to belong. Was it so wrong to want him to belong there with me?  
  
And then, just like that he was gone, slipped away into the shadows beyond the range of my vision. I leaned back against the wall, trying hard not to rush after him. It would only hurt more if I did. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but the last thing I wanted to do was let them fall – tears would only provide proof I didn't want that I cared too much about the 'guy with the fuzzy green hair.'  
  
I heard his ship take off, and I could no longer contain myself. The tears began to fall – it was the first time I'd ever cried for him. I figured it would not be the last. I had already given up hope. He was going to die.  
  
They were slow at first, rolling down my cheeks one by one, each following the path the last had taken. Then they came faster, until my eyes were overflowing. I slide down the wall, and wrapped my arms around my legs, trying with all my might to control my shaking body. I didn't want this pain. I didn't ask for it. I cursed myself even as I cried for letting myself care about him. I shouted to the empty hallway that I hated him. That he was a selfish asshole who deserved to go off and die if he was stupid enough to throw his life away. That I didn't need him – in any way shape or form. I yelled these things, as I cried, because I wanted to believe them. I wanted to believe that if I could convince myself that I didn't need him, I wouldn't feel my heart breaking into fifteen million pieces.  
  
But my heart was already broken. Shattered like a glass vase that had fallen from the table top. I could see it in slow motion, and I was trying so hard to reach out and catch it, to stop it before it made it to the hard floor. But I was too late, and the vase hit the ground. Beautiful shards of glass flew everywhere, sparkling in the light as they moved. Beautiful, until they embedded themselves into my body, cutting me to pieces. That's how I felt in that moment. Broken, shattered, and cut into a million pieces.  
  
All because of him.  
  
Finally, the sobbing subsided and I was able to pull myself back up into the standing position. Why had I let him go? Why hadn't I stopped him? Why did he feel the need to find his peace against a man who should have meant nothing to him anymore and yet meant everything? And why wasn't I going after him? We were comrades. We still are comrades.  
  
Resolving that I would find a way to follow him, I turned and walked into the living room. I was relieved to find that Jet was not there – had he been he would have heard my screams – hell, he might have heard them anyway. I decided I didn't care. I rushed up the stairs and headed for the one place I figured Jet would be – the observation deck.  
  
I was right. He was there, cleaning the windows as though the Bebop was his prized possession and any speck of dirt would taint it. "Jet," I said, "The window is clean enough."  
  
He turned around, and I could see the pain he was trying to mask. "I'm trying to get this place clean, since we're stuck here until I can order the parts we'll need."  
  
"Screw the ship, Jet," I shot back. "He's going to die, unless we go after him." I crossed my arms. I wanted him to know I was serious. I didn't care that my face was probably red, my eyes were puffy, and my nose was running. I didn't care that my makeup was probably smudged down my face and smeared across my cheeks. I only cared – for once in my life – about getting him back alive.  
  
"I told you before, Faye, he's dealing with his own demons. This is his fight, not ours." Jet turned back around and began to scrub the window again.  
  
I stormed up to him and ripped the cloth out of his hand, tossing it behind me. I could have cared less about the damn windows. "Fuck that Jet. We're a team. We've had to help each other to stay alive, and this situation, regardless of his fucking reasons, is no different. If you don't go with me, I'll take your damn zip and I'll go myself."  
  
"You can't drive the Hammerhead, Faye." Jet replied his voice even, although I could tell he was just as ready as I was to go.  
  
"I don't care. I'll try. I have to try, Jet." I pleaded, letting the façade of my normally hard exterior drop. Jet had to understand how important this was to me. I wasn't even sure if I understood why it was so important, but I could figure that out later. It wouldn't matter if he died.  
  
Jet seemed to take a long time to consider my request. I thought I'd die waiting for him to think it through in his careful way. I knew he was weighing the pros and the cons and trying to make a rational decision. "We don't have time for this, Jet." I finally blurted out, and turning around, I headed for the exit.  
  
"Faye, I'll take you. But I'm not going to interfere with what he's trying to do." Jet finally said, and I heard his footsteps behind me. I didn't bother to answer him. I knew what I had to do, and no one was going to stop me. 


	2. Three Little Words

He was in the hospital. Alive. Faye felt like she'd been living in a nightmare since the day he'd left. Her entire world seemed to hinge on whether or not Spike made it out of the hospital alive or dead. And she hated that.  
  
She hated him.  
  
Strange how those emotions completely contrasted the ones she'd felt only a few days ago. Or maybe they were the same emotions. That was the problem with emotions. They tore up the insides until left was right and up was down.  
  
She hadn't been to see him, yet. Not that it mattered much. He was still a corpse. Jet had let her know that Spike was still out; although he had ensured her it was only the painkillers and not the man's own desire to stay dead that kept him from waking.  
  
Faye lit a cigarette and took a long drag. She was standing outside the hospital in the twilight with her sweater wrapped up around her shoulders and her hair blowing softly in the fake Mars wind. An aura of sadness seemed to hang over her, hovering as she blew small clouds of smoke up into the air around her. She didn't care. She wasn't there to impress people.  
  
Faye was there to say her good-byes.  
  
No, that wasn't quite right. She wasn't there to bid Spike good-bye. She was there to set her own emotions straight, and say good-bye to the ones that made her weak.  
  
She flicked the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of her white boot. The motion was slow, and she watched as the cigarette died beneath her foot. That's what she was here to do. To snub out whatever it was that had caused those tears. Faye Valentine didn't cry.  
  
Slowly, she walked up the steps towards the front doors of the hospital. The sliding glass doors opened upon her approach, inviting her to enter. Come, Faye. Face those demons. Faye paused, as though the doors marked a boundary she wasn't sure she was ready to cross. She wasn't sure she wanted to find out what seeing him would do to her. Perhaps she wasn't ready for good-bye.  
  
"Faye"  
  
She turned around. Jet was standing behind her. He ran a hand over his forehead, unsure exactly what to say to her now that he'd gotten her attention. He'd watched her walk up the stairs and for all that Faye hid herself, her posture, her facial expressions, and even the way she'd held her cigarette only moments before portrayed a woman who was lost and unsure. Jet wasn't used to dealing with that Faye. And women were complicated – too complicated.  
  
Still, it had been she who had so desperately wanted to save Spike. And he had heard her screams of anguish when Spike had left. Jet was not completely unaware of the situation, even if he had no advice to offer and no comment to make. "Are you going to see him?" he finally asked.  
  
"What does it look like, Jet," Faye replied, although she had yet to cross the threshold that officially marked where the hospital began and the rest of the world ended. She could still walk away.  
  
Jet shrugged, "It looks like you're still standing here, Faye."  
  
Faye bit her lip. "What did you expect when you called my name?" Of course, that hadn't been the reason she was still standing there.  
  
Jet didn't answer. Or maybe she just didn't wait around long enough to find out if he had one. She turned around, and walked into the hospital. She was immediately hit with the standard sterile smell, and she shuddered, remembering her own hospital experience a few years back. She needed another cigarette, and the no smoking sign plastered to the wall next to the elevator seemed to be taunting her with its big black letters.  
  
She rode the elevator in silence, her fingers rolling a cigarette back and forth. She stuck it back in the box as the elevator display indicated they had arrived on the fifth floor. It could wait.  
  
"Spike Spiegel," Faye said to a plump little blonde nurse with the nametag 'Jana' who was sitting behind a mountain of file folders and loose papers. The hospital looked like it was still stuck in the dark ages of paper.  
  
Jana looked up and flashed Faye a smile. "Girlfriend?" she asked as she stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk.  
  
Faye blushed. "No. He's just – a friend." And that was all Spike would ever be.  
  
"Oops! I guess I just assumed," Jana chirped along, almost too cheery for someone stuck around sick people all the time. Faye took a deep breath and followed along behind her, until Jana stopped at room 514. "Go on in, although he's not awake yet." She checked something on the chart next to his room, then walked off.  
  
Faye watched her leave, then turned back to the door. She placed her hand on the door handle and slowly pushed it down, opening the door enough to slip inside. The lights were off, and Faye didn't bother to turn them on. She could see Spike well enough in the light of the moon, which shone in through the opening in the curtains over the window.  
  
She walked over to the bed, and stared down at him. "You look like shit," she whispered softly, as she watched his chest rise up and down with each breath he took. And yet, he looked beautiful, and she fought to keep herself from crying again. "And I hate you."  
  
There, she had said it. She'd come out and told him exactly how she felt about him, and what he'd done, and how he'd left her standing there in despair at his departure. Three little words to sum it all up. She felt better, and contemplated telling him again, even if he wouldn't know she'd ever said it.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
Faye Valentine didn't cry. And she wasn't going to now. All she wanted was another cigarette, and to get away from that horrible hospital smell. 


	3. Still Alive

AN: Alright, here we go with Spike and Jet. I will admit now I'm not nearly as comfortable with their characters as I am with Faye, so any comment on the way I've portrayed them is appreciated.  
  
Also, thanks for the reviews! To respond to those of you who mentioned that I'm not a first time writer, that's quite true. I've been writing for five years, but always in RPG style – aka, with other people. This is my first attempt to work on something all alone, and I will say, it's far more difficult for me.  
  
Anyway! Enjoy!  
  
Kajouka  
  
-- -- -- -- -- -- --  
  
Spike opened his eyes. The room was bright and unfocused, and he blinked a few times to try and clear his vision. His first breath smelled like a mix of old furniture, stale cigarettes, and sterilized sheets. He tried to move and immediately registered that his chest hurt, his head throbbed, and his shoulder felt like a lead weight.  
  
Then came the realization that he was still alive. What the hell was he doing still alive? The last thing he remembered was dying, and the dead weren't supposed to come back to life. The dead were best left dead. He had learned that the first time he died – learned it the hard way – and for what? Only to lose everything he loved for a second time, and live through it yet again.  
  
He slowly rolled his head to the side, ignoring the pounding headache in the back section of his brains. Squinting to focus his vision, he could barely make out Jet, sitting on a chair by the window reading a book. Spike squeezed his eyes shut again, pretending to still be asleep. The smell of cigarettes must have come from Jet. What he wouldn't do for a cigarette right then and there. Or maybe a gun to his head so that he wouldn't have to wake from his dream and enter the nightmare that would be his new reality.  
  
He was alive. She was dead. And now he had to be alive without her.  
  
Jet's presence only confirmed the fact that those on the Bebop were waiting for him to come back. He pondered that thought – Jet had been a good friend to him for the years they'd lived on the Bebop, and he'd be lying if he said that there wasn't some part of him that enjoyed it. But now, the thought of going back there, where he'd lived in the dream that one day he'd be happy again, filled him with revulsion. He already wanted to die. Going back there would only kill him slower.  
  
Jet had been sitting there for a few hours. He'd passed the time browsing through a book about the finer arts of Cantonese cooking, but he hadn't been able to concentrate. His eyes kept drifting to where Spike was sleeping, and he wondered if his friend and partner would ever wake up. Perhaps he'd been lying when he told Faye that Spike was going to be ok. Or perhaps he wanted to believe that Spike would be ok, because he had some strange moral obligation to keep his family from falling apart again. Some family they were.  
  
Jet put his book down and glanced at Spike's form on the bed. He watched him silently, aware that a moment ago Spike's head had moved and his eyes had opened. He felt a sense of relief wash over him, and decided his thoughts had merely been a way to pass the time spent sitting alone in a hospital room with a friend laying comatose. The mind could wander – and that's what had happened. Jet's mind had wandered.  
  
He waited for Spike to say something, and when he realized that Spike was going to continue to lay there pretending to be asleep, he set the book down and stood. "Welcome back, Spike."  
  
Spike groaned and opened his eyes again. "Would it bother you much if I said your welcome wasn't wanted?"  
  
"Not really," Jet replied, letting the lie fall through his lips.  
  
"Good," Spike replied, sucking in the air around him. Breathing was painful, although the pain didn't bother him, except for the fact that the pain reminded him he was alive.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like someone dropped a 10,000 ton weight on my head."  
  
"That should be nothing new, Spike," Jet replied, referring to the previous times Spike's encounters left him in a full body wrap. Jet was used to cleaning up after Spike's messes, although this time he wasn't sure how much clean up would be required.  
  
Spike didn't answer. Every other time he'd been hurt and left laying on the yellow-couch, he had had a reason to get back up. She had been his reason. Fuck, he had been a reason too. But she was dead, and so was he and Spike was left with nothing. He closed his eyes again. Perhaps he could just go back to sleep and dream away the rest of his life like he'd been doing for the past three years.  
  
"It'll be a few weeks before they let you out," Jet said, continuing the conversation. "Then we'll leave. Head out – maybe visit Venus or something."  
  
Again, Spike was silent. Jet had already assumed that he would rejoin their crew and continue their pointless existence hunting bounties and going hungry. Pointless. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, his eyes tracing the patterns of bumps spackled across its surface. Pointless. Her image flashed through his mind. Without her, everything was pointless. "I don't plan on going with you, Jet."  
  
"What?" Jet responded, obvious surprise present in his voice. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he had just assumed that Spike would return to the Bebop and life would move on. After all, that seemed like the most logical thing to do. Spike had no where else to go.  
  
"And, all I want is a cigarette." Spike replied, not bothering to repeat his words. Jet could figure them out later. The smell of cigarettes drifting on the air was driving him crazy.  
  
Jet crossed his arms. "Spike, what do you mean you're not coming with us? Where the hell will you go?"  
  
"Anywhere," Spike replied. "Anywhere and nowhere." He'd been a drifter before. He could continue drifting along just fine - alone.  
  
Jet picked up on the apathetic tone in Spike's voice. He'd heard it before, but usually when Spike had decided he was uninterested in a bounty head, or because Faye had vanished again. Jet's mind was trying to grasp something to say, anything, to get rid of that tone. Jet hated that tone. "And what about Faye?" Jet finally spit out, before groaning. Faye was probably the last subject he should have brought up. Faye, who's screams Jet could still hear.  
  
"Faye? What about her?" Spike shot back, his voice cold. "Faye means nothing to me." And right now, neither do you, or anyone else on that damn ship. "I just want a fucking cigarette, Jet."  
  
"You can't smoke in here, Spike. And right now, those things will kill you." Jet countered, shaking his head.  
  
"Death is the least of my worries," Spike replied, giving Jet a pointed stare. He didn't care if he was in a hospital, half-dead. His body wanted to smoke.  
  
"Fine," Jet shouted back frustrated. Spike's welfare wasn't his responsibility anyway. He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and tossed it on the bed at Spike. "Good luck lighting it," he mumbled as he headed for the exit.  
  
Spike picked up the cigarette and slowly placed it in between his lips. He could taste the nicotine on the tip of his tongue and smell the pungent odor of the smoke he should have been inhaling. So far, it was the sweetest thing he'd encountered since he'd woken up from his second death. If he couldn't drown out the nightmare with sleep, he'd find a way to smoke that damn cigarette.  
  
He closed his eyes. His head was still pounding, and small effort he'd made to talk to Jet only made it worse. He was tired, and as he fell asleep, the cigarette fell out of his mouth and rolled down the side of the bed to the floor. 


	4. Peas and Peppers

AN: Hey all! Continuing on! Sorry the chapters are so short, I just like to keep one scene to one chapter. So there will probably be 2,304 short chapters!  
  
Anyway, if someone could PLEASE tell me how the hell to get more than one space between stuff I'd appreciate. I've tried word .doc, word html, and notepad html and nothing seems to work right for me.  
  
Much love!  
  
Kajouka  
  
----------------------  
  
Hate was such a relative word. Faye hated peas. The disgusting little green things had the worst texture and tasted horrible. They were almost as bad as the bell peppers Jet seemed insistent on serving them day in and day out. Faye had grown used to the peppers, but she still hated peas. But hating peas was a completely different feeling from hating Spike. Hating Spike caused much more anguish than hating peas. Hate was definitely a relative word.  
  
And Faye wasn't so sure she hated Spike either.  
  
She held her hand up to inspect her nails, and unsatisfied with their appearance, resumed her almost obsessive filing. She'd been filing her nails for at least an hour. Filing and thinking - about peas and Spike and how life would be much easier if she cared about Spike as much as she cared about peas.  
  
"If you keep that up, you won't have any nails left, Faye," Jet finally said, looking up from his book – the same Cantonese cookbook he'd attempted to read while sitting with Spike.  
  
Faye paused and glanced over at Jet. "Since when did you care about my nails?"  
  
He didn't care about her nails. "It's just irritating me." Jet tossed the book down bored with its contents and flipped on the TV. The station was playing the inter solar system news, and the hot new story was about how some girl had been kidnapped.  
  
Faye went back to filing her nails. She had enough to worry about without the distraction of the daily events of the rest of the world. "At least put on something interesting, Jet." She complained, more for the sake of complaining than because she actually wanted to watch anything.  
  
"Hold on, Faye," Jet replied, his cop-side taking interest in the story. Apparently the girl had been kidnapped from college, and so far there had been no word from her kidnappers. No random note, no random body, nothing.  
  
Faye threw her hands up frustrated. She tossed her file on the coffee table and swinging her legs over the side of the couch, planted them on the floor and pushed herself up. "I'm getting something to eat."  
  
Jet didn't bother to enlighten her on their current food selection – or lack there of. Instead, he continued to watch the story, although by now the news crew was just interviewing the weeping relatives of the lost girl.  
  
Faye padded into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator. She groaned as her eyes landed on the only two items contained within – a bell pepper and a can of peas. She slammed the door shut and sighed. Who the hell put peas in the fridge?  
  
"That idiot needs to hurry up and heal," Faye said stretching, as she walked back into the common area. "I'm starving, and we have nothing to eat, not that that's anything new." She leaned over the couch, her eyes flicking over to the TV. The news had moved on to talk about some stupid research project some lab was doing that they claimed would revolutionize mankind. Faye yawned. The news sure as hell was boring.  
  
Jet picked up the remote and clicked the TV off. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that, actually." In reality, he'd been avoiding the subject of Spike entirely.  
  
"Oh?" Faye said, plopping back down on the sofa, trying to hide her curiosity. She picked her file up and began working on her nails again, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands. The tone in Jet's voice bothered her, but she wasn't going to show it.  
  
"Spike woke up yesterday," Jet started slowly.  
  
Faye eyes rose up to meet Jet's. "And?" Why hadn't he told her before? She took a deep breath, but refused to indicate that she cared in any way beyond her question.  
  
"He's not coming back."  
  
Faye blinked. "Excuse me?" She couldn't hide her surprise this time around. Jet's words felt like a punch to her stomach, or perhaps someone had just hit her in the head with the can of peas still gracing the shelf of their refrigerator.  
  
"He's a stubborn ass, Faye." Jet commented, trying to keep himself from giving away that he was upset as well. "He's always gone and done whatever the hell he likes, regardless of everyone else. I'm not responsible for his poor choices, and he's made more of those than I care to remember."  
  
"So that's it?" Faye retorted. "He goes off to die and when he doesn't that's it? Screw the people he spent the last year with? Yeah, you're right. That sounds just like Spike."  
  
She looked away, thinking back to the night he'd left. Life would have been much easier if she'd just shot him. Shot him and left him to die. She closed her eyes, for a moment, letting her last visit with Spike reply through her mind.  
  
"Fucking peas." Faye stood, and headed for the door. Life would be easier if Spike were a can of peas. Then she could just throw him away and never look back.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Jet called after her.  
  
Faye simply waved a hand as she hit the button to open the hatch door. "I'll be back, later," she called, not bothering to answer his question.  
  
Jet watched her leave, then turned back to the TV. "Just go and do whatever the hell they like," he mumbled to himself as he picked up the remote and flipped the TV back on. 


	5. Last Goodbye

AN: Sorry it took me so long to get through this chapter! Last week was busy, and I wanted time to make sure this chapter was what I wanted. I'm still not sure if it came out the way I wanted it to, but it's about time to post it so here it is!  
  
Thanks again for the reviews! I really appreciate them! I already have the next chapter planned. I'd actually anticipated writing it onto the bottom of this one, but I didn't get to it tonight and like I said, I wanted to post this up.  
  
Thanks!  
  
Kajouka  
  
Lyrics: Last Goodbye // All Living Fear  
  
--------------------------  
  
And now it's time to say goodbye to you,  
  
And all the pain you put me through.  
  
If you were a friend,  
  
You'd be there when I needed you.  
  
Everything is closing in,  
  
I try to talk but where to begin.  
  
One final sigh, my last goodbye.  
  
Engulfing flames, I close my eyes.  
  
-----------------------------  
  
So here she was again, standing outside the hospital, smoking a cigarette and staring up at the windows of the building trying to figure out if she could determine which one belonged to Spike. She could almost see his outline through one of the windows on the fifth floor, complete with the fuzzy green mop of hair on his head, and she briefly daydreamed that he was staring down watching for her. Staring down, waiting for her to come and visit. Then the clouds shifted, changing the reflection of the sun on the glass and the illusion vanished. Faye forced the daydream from her head as well, chiding herself for having such thoughts. Spike was an ass, she reminded herself. Besides, she thought, Spike couldn't even get out of bed yet.  
  
Still, her eyes continued to stray to the window above, and she imagined Spike stuck in bed. Faye wasn't even one hundred percent sure why she was visiting him, much less what she was going to say to him. If he didn't want to come back, then far be it for her to change his mind. But on some level she realized that she'd grown accustom to the way things ran on the Bebop and without Spike there was no hope of returning to that state - that place where she was the bitch and he was the asshole and they both pissed off Jet on a regular basis. Perhaps that was why she was here, to understand why the hell he didn't feel the same way. Or maybe she just wanted to make his life hell for the short time she had left. Either way, she wasn't going to get anywhere standing outside.  
  
Faye took one last drag off her cigarette before tossing it to the ground. She headed up the same steps as before, although this time she felt like she was opening a can of emotional worms rather than snubbing them out like a cigarette - a dangerous can of worms that would be better tossed away with her can of peas than opened in a hospital room occupied by Spike. Faye pushed the thought out of her mind as she stepped through the sliding glass doors. The same sterile hospital smell hit her with a vengeance, causing her to cringe. And the same damn no smoking sign seemed to be laughing at her again. She decided she hated this place. As soon as Spike was out of here she was never coming back. Hell, if Spike was being as much of an ass as Jet said, she'd probably never come back no matter how long it took him to heal.  
  
Faye rode the elevator back up to the fifth floor, tapping the toe of her boot on the ground impatiently. She felt slightly nervous at the idea of talking to Spike and that feeling surprised her. She'd never been bothered by him before, and she usually enjoyed their banter more than she let on. Then again, she'd never fired off five shots at the ceiling behind him while he walked off to die and she stayed behind to cry her eyes out. She briefly wondered if he knew, then decided she'd be better off not knowing.  
  
After all, Faye Valentine didn't cry.  
  
The doors of the elevator opened, and Faye was immediately greeted by the pleasant smile of plump little Jana. "He's awake this time," she told Faye as she got up from behind the counter. "Quite a good looking guy now that he's not so bandaged up anymore. And he's got these eyes..." she said, as she led Faye towards Spike's room.  
  
"I know," Faye bluntly interrupted. She knew too well about Spike's eyes and what those mismatched colors could do to her when her own emerald ones stared into them. Then she smiled. "Don't let him fool you," she continued, "One of them isn't even real."  
  
"I wondered why they were different colors," Jana replied, pushing open the door to Spike's room. "Go on in."  
  
Faye nodded, and slipped into the room. The door closed softly behind her, and she hung back for a moment. The TV was on, and she wondered if it had drowned out the sounds of her entering the room.  
  
She didn't have to wonder for long. The TV flipped off, and Spike's voice followed shortly after. "You just going to stand over there?"  
  
Faye stepped further into the room, walking through the short hallway until she could see him lying on the bed. His expression didn't look welcoming, and she immediately wondered if coming to see him was a mistake. Her heart was beating faster, and she felt unwelcome butterflies in her stomach. "You look lovely," she said sarcastically, as she leaned back against the wall, using her tone to mask her discomfort. Besides, there was no better way to start out a conversation with Spike than to insult him.  
  
"Excuse me for not getting dressed up for you," Spike retorted, already irritated with Faye's attitude. She was the last person he needed to deal with right now.  
  
Faye huffed, "I didn't expect you to."  
  
"And yet you come here to visit me and the first thing you do is complement me," Spike replied, his own voice dripping with sarcasm. "Typical, Faye."  
  
"Hey, just because you ran out and tried to get yourself killed doesn't mean I've changed any," Faye answered, although part of her wondered if that was really true.  
  
Spike's brow furrowed. Was that what she thought? That he had purposed tried to die? He had expected to die – he and Vicious were so equally matched that it seemed unreal for one of them die and the other to live. And yet, here he was lying in a hospital bed recovering, while his ex- partner was no longer walking the planet. "And life wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you did."  
  
"Next time, say that like you mean it," Faye retorted. She turned and walked to the window, pushing aside the curtain to let in the sunlight. The window faced directly into another building, and the view was anything but spectacular. Faye supposed that sick people didn't spend much time staring out the window anyway. "When you coming back?"  
  
Spike didn't answer. For some reason, telling Faye he wasn't planning on coming back seemed more difficult than telling Jet. He would have expected the opposite. Jet was his friend and his partner. Faye was just some bitch who lived on their ship, stole their money, and whined and complained all the time. But he had already decided, and as his eyes turned to look at her he answered, "I guess Jet didn't tell you. I'm not coming back Faye. And it would probably be better if you didn't come back here either."  
  
Faye didn't turn around. She could keep her expression straight, but she didn't trust her eyes to hide how much his words hurt. One hand reached up to touch the glass, and she wondered what it would feel like if the window suddenly shattered into a million pieces in front of her. Shattering the same way she had shattered when he walked away from her that night. She didn't want to feel like that again.  
  
After what felt like forever, she slowly turned around. She forced out a laughed, as though she found his words funny. "You have no where else to go, Spike. But hey, it's not my problem." And it wasn't her problem. Spike was nothing but a problem that she shouldn't have to deal with.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to Faye's words than what she said. "I'll find somewhere," he replied, not caring to share his plans with Faye, or his lack of plans. Spike had no where to go, because there wasn't anywhere he wanted to go.  
  
"Don't bother to come crawling back either," Faye continued, trying anything to push his buttons. Of course, Jet would have taken him back. Jet always took him, her, and everyone else on the ship back no matter how many times they ran away or pissed him off.  
  
"I wasn't planning on it, Faye,"  
  
"You never plan for anything, Spike."  
  
A silence fell between them, and Faye leaned back against the window. The sun dipped below the neighboring building, casting a shadow across the room and over Spike. Shadows she felt deep inside. "After all, you're nothing but trouble. And I hate you." Faye whispered, softly. Funny how those words were so much easier to say when Spike had been asleep.  
  
Just then Jana burst into the room, destroying the somber mood with the bright bubbly smile on her face and the uplifting tone of her voice as she told Spike it was dinner time. Faye groaned, her own stomach growling when she realized she hadn't eaten that day due to the Bebop's lack of available options.  
  
Jana set the tray down on the stand next to Spike's bed, and lifted off the cover. She seemed to take great pride in presenting him his meal, as though it were a feast fit for a king. "Special today is spaghetti with a side of peas. Enjoy!"  
  
Faye nearly blanched. "What?" she coughed out.  
  
"Spaghetti and peas, Faye. Noodles with sauce and little green vegetables," Spike told her, as though she were too stupid to know what either food item was.  
  
"I know what they are, Spike." Faye replied, deciding that peas were forever on her shit list. The fact that she couldn't seem to escape the little green things was driving her crazy. The fact that she couldn't seem to force herself to walk out of the room was driving her crazy as well.  
  
Jana seemed oblivious to the underlying tension between the two, while Spike was too busy eating his dinner to listen. The hospital food was ten times better than the crap they ate on the Bebop and Spike looked like he was enjoying it. Faye had suddenly lost her appetite anyway, her green eyes following Jana as the woman checked Spike's monitors. When Jana was finished, she flashed Faye another huge smile, mouthed again that Spike was cute, and left. Faye rolled her eyes. Jana needed to get a clue.  
  
Faye flopped down the hospital chair, still wondering why she hadn't left yet. She was in dire need of a cigarette, and her visit with Spike had accomplished nothing. She still wasn't sure what had possessed her to come, only that when Jet had told her Spike wasn't coming back, she had to find out why. And yet, she hadn't even asked. Perhaps, because asking would show that she cared.  
  
Spike set down his utensils and turned to Faye, his brown eyes cold as he stared at her. "Why are you here?" he finally asked, "Or maybe I should ask, why are you still here?"  
  
Faye pulled out a cigarette and rolled it through her fingers. She slid the cigarette between her index and middle finger, and pointed it at Spike. "If you're not coming back, then I'll have to enjoy torturing you while I can," her mouth told him. Her eyes, however, the ones she had wanted to keep hidden from him, told a different story. She had come to see if she couldn't convince him to come back to the Bebop with her and Jet, but she'd already decided that he wasn't going to come. Or, she couldn't find the courage within her to ask. Instead, she stood, deciding that perhaps leaving was the better option. "But then, I think I'd rather go smoke."  
  
Spike sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The only thing he'd really wanted since he woke up in the hospital room was a cigarette. "You're just a bitch," he muttered under his breath.  
  
The word affected Faye more than she would have expected, and suddenly she just snapped. "You know what, Spike. Fuck you. Fuck you, and your attitude, and your issues, and..." Faye trailed off, "Fuck you."  
  
She turned on her heel, and walked towards the door without looking back. "Goodbye, Spike," she whispered, pulling the door open. If he had answered her, she hadn't heard, or she hadn't wanted to hear.  
  
Once outside the hospital, she took a deep breath. The cigarette was lit in an instant, and she took a few long drags to calm herself down. Visiting Spike had been more of an emotional roller coaster than she had anticipated. "He's just an idiot, anyway," she said softly to herself, as she headed for her zip craft. Her eyes trailed up to the window one more time, before she pulled them away for good. 


	6. Unwanted

AN: First off, I wanted to thank you guys for continuing with the reviews! It really helps to have feedback to let you know what's good and what's not. ssg, do you really like my dialogue? I hate it! I find it to be the hardest part to write. Zeppelinrose, the peas crack me up as well. I tossed them in there for humor. I was also curious if anyone noticed how the "Last Goodbye" chapter tossed in references from all the previous chapters.  
  
Anyway, I decided to start kicking in a little of the plot, so here we go! Also, this is the first chapter where I skip around to different places, and those are marked by the little ***** stars.  
  
Thanks!  
  
Kajouka!  
  
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --  
  
A pair of dark brown eyes watched as the young woman with violet hair stepped out of the hospital and began to walk down the street. He took a deep breath, as though drinking in her beauty and basking in her presence. He followed her as she walked, watching her movements – the way she walked, the way she held her cigarette, and the way she seemed to hide some inner sorrow with her attitude of overconfidence.  
  
He could see right through her. He always could. She'd been his once before, and if he had his way, she'd be his again.  
  
But there was time for all of that. There were plans to be made, information to be tracked down, and pieces that needed to fall into place. There was more he needed to accomplish than just having her back. And so, he would wait. He would be content for now to watch her from the shadows. Watch her, and learn. She was so different from the girl he remembered. The girl he remembered would have never worn such an outlandish outfit, and while he enjoyed staring at her curves and imagining touching her soft skin, he did not like the fact that others could stare so openly at her as well. The girl he remembered did not smoke, although he had acquired the habit since he'd last seen her as well. He decided they would quit together, when she was his again.  
  
He followed her to the docks and watched as she walked onto a ship called the 'Bebop'. He wrinkled his nose – she should not be living in such a disgusting rust bucket. He would buy her a palace when everything was finished.  
  
And she would love him again...  
  
*****  
  
Faye watched as the door to the main area of the Bebop rolled slowly to the side. She leaned over to walk through the doorway, cursing under her breath that the size was still too small. The living room was empty, causing mixed feelings for Faye. On one hand, she wanted someone to bitch to about Spike's lack of care for her, the ship, and everything that should have been important to him. On the other, she just wanted to be alone. Either option had its drawbacks, however, because both left her thinking about Spike. She didn't want to think about Spike. She sighed softly as she walked down the stairs, letting one hand trail along the railing. Even if she didn't want to think about Spike, it was inevitable.  
  
Glancing around the empty room, she decided the ship was just too quiet. A few weeks ago, she would have complained about the constant noise of the dog barking, the kid typing, and Spike bitching about her gambling habits. She would have huffed off, calling out that she was taking a shower, pretending that the rest of her shipmates actually cared. They would either ignore her or roll their eyes, grumbling about the fact that she always used up the hot water.  
  
Those days seemed like only a memory now. One that was neither good nor bad, just missed.  
  
Faye meandered down the hallway, and pushed open the door to her room. The lights were off, and she left them that way, preferring to lay in the darkness. She fell onto her bed, her head hitting the pillow, and as she closed her eyes, she pulled her legs up to her chest, curling up into a ball as though protecting herself from some unseen force.  
  
She hadn't anticipated she'd feel as hurt and pissed off as she did. She hadn't thought that Spike could affect her twice. She certainly hadn't expected to end her visit losing control and swearing at him because he'd called her a bitch. He called her a bitch all the time. She was fine with being a bitch.  
  
And yet, that time the word had stung.  
  
Faye reached up and pulled her pillow tightly to her chest. The soft white bag of cotton offered a sense of support that she wished she didn't need. She told herself again that she didn't need Spike – she could go on being the ship's bitch without him. Yet, she clung to the pillow, because she knew she was lying to herself. Somehow, she'd let herself become vulnerable to him, and worse, she'd let it show.  
  
But was that really the problem? She had opened her heart to him the day he'd left, offering up herself for the first time with the hope that he'd find her a reason to stay. Faye decided, the reason that letting herself show was so horrible was because he hadn't taken what she'd been willing to give.  
  
That, Faye decided, was what really hurt.  
  
*****  
  
Spike was staring at the ceiling. He'd been staring at the ceiling for the last hour. He had little else to do besides stare at the ceiling and think about how fucked up things had gotten. Faye's visit had been exactly what he'd expected – except for her outburst at the end. Faye rarely showed any form of emotion – that was one of the few things they had in common – and he'd been a bit surprised at the brief show she put on.  
  
Then again, she'd shown plenty of emotion the day he'd left. Spike had made a point not to think about that, partly because even though he knew nothing could have changed his mind, Faye hadn't. And Faye had made her feelings abundantly clear.  
  
Just then, the door to Spike's room opened. His eyes moved towards the small hallway that blocked his view of the door. A moment later, Jana's smiling face came around the corner. Spike smiled back – despite his morose mood, there was something about the peppy nurse he liked. Or maybe he just liked to humor her while she was taking care of him.  
  
"How are you feeling tonight?" Jana asked, as she checked his monitors. In one hand, she held a small palm pilot, and she recorded her observations as she went.  
  
"I'm fine." Spike replied. Sure his body still hurt, regardless of the painkillers he knew the hospital was pumping into him for some exorbitant price, but he didn't feel like sharing that with Jana.  
  
In response, she pushed down on his abdomen. Spike squirmed and let out a small "ouch," much to his dismay.  
  
"I think you're still healing." Jana replied, pressing a few buttons on the machines next to Spike.  
  
"You didn't have to do that," Spike mumbled, annoyed that she'd seen past his lie so easily.  
  
"Perhaps next time, you'll be straightforward with me." Jana replied, pulling a chair up next to his bed and sitting down. She picked up his wrist, and pressed a small instrument up next to it. "I haven't been a nurse all my life without picking up a good deal of people reading skills." The machine beeped, then Jana plugged it into the palm pilot and let the information download into Spike's file.  
  
"And learning to read people's physical condition gave me good practice at reading their emotions as well." Jana set the palm pilot on the table next to her and turned back to Spike. "Who was the woman who came to see you?"  
  
"Faye?" Spike replied, surprised that she was asking.  
  
"I assume her," Jana responded, "Only one woman has visited you the entire time you've been here. Who is she?"  
  
"Just a friend." Spike's eyes turned towards the window and he pretended he could see something beyond the bricks of the building next door. He had never been one to talk about his past – and now that the Bebop and crew was part of his past, they would fall under the same category.  
  
"She seemed upset when she left," Jana continued. She obviously didn't have Spike's same standards when defining what was off-limits. Faye was definitely off-limits. Spike ignored her.  
  
"Spike," Jana continued, as though she hadn't noticed Spike's silence. "I act like I'm happy all the time. I act like I'm oblivious to the deeper feelings people have. The smile on my face keeps the patients happy, but just because I come across that way, doesn't mean I don't notice the little things. You've been melancholy and sullen ever since you woke up. Now, I don't know what happened to you out there, but I will tell you this. Those people that come to visit you obviously care about you. And every time they leave they look like someone punched them in the stomach."  
  
Spike sighed softly and turned back to Jana. "That's not my fault." It wasn't, Spike told himself again. If they wished to come here and get hurt by him because of the decisions he'd made, he couldn't change that. He wasn't responsible for them.  
  
"No, I suppose not. After all, it's not your fault they care. It's not your fault that they brought you here so that you could get better, or that they visit you to make sure you're alright."  
  
"Then why are you bothering with this?" Spike asked.  
  
"Because, my job isn't only to see that your body heals. My job is to see that all of you heals. Your health is improving, and soon you'll be able to leave, but mentally, you're still in the same place you were when you woke up a few days ago. Don't think I haven't treated your kind before – the tragic hero who goes off to die and ends up living and spends the rest of their days moping around because now they have nothing to live for." Jana rolled her eyes. "Personally, I find that attitude to be pathetic, even if I'm not supposed to say that out loud."  
  
She stood and looked down at Spike, as though her position above him would lend some sort of authority to her words. "Those people are your reason to live."  
  
Spike's eyes locked with Jana, and for a moment he felt like they were in a battle of wills – she staring down at him with a determined look in her eyes and he fighting back that he wouldn't give in to her words. After a minute, Spike looked down, realizing that perhaps a part of her was right. The Bebop had been a place he'd called home, and he did care about Jet, and even perhaps Faye, although he'd never openly admit to the latter.  
  
Jana let out a triumphant humph, and picked up her palm pilot. "If you need anything, just call. Otherwise, think about what I said." She turned her back to Spike, and headed for the door, glancing over her shoulder only once to see him lying down with his eyes closed.  
  
*****  
  
Faye forced herself to sit back up. Nearly an hour had gone by, and the smells of bell peppers had drifted into her room. Jet must be cooking again, she thought, rolling off the bed and pulling her sweater up around her shoulders. The temperature in the Bebop hadn't changed, but she felt cold anyway.  
  
Exiting her room, Faye made her way down the hallway and back into the common area. The scent of peppers was stronger now, and even though the thought of eating the green vegetable made her stomach turn, she was hungry. She still had yet to eat that day.  
  
Jet poked his head out of the kitchen. Faye couldn't see his eyes, which were covered by his favorite pair of sunglasses, but she knew he was looking at her. "I take it we're having bell peppers for dinner?" she asked, as though peppers were a new cuisine item for their menu. "Unless you wanted peas instead, it's about all we've got. We haven't hunted a single bounty since..." Jet trailed off. Faye didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence. She already knew what Jet had been planning to say.  
  
"Peppers are fine," Faye said plopping down on the couch. She picked up the deck of card sitting on the coffee table and dealt herself a round of solitaire. "We should start looking for another bounty, Jet. We're broke enough as it is."  
  
Jet walked back into the living room carrying two plates of food and two pairs of chopsticks. He set them down on the coffee table over Faye's game of cards without bothering to see if she was finished playing. Faye tossed the cards down. Normally, she would have been irritated, but she'd had enough of that emotion for the day and settled on being content that there was food on the table.  
  
"I'll check and see if I can get any leads from the ISSP." Jet said, picking up his chopsticks, and taking a bite of his food. "There has to be a few decent-sized bounties on Mars."  
  
"Let's look for some on Venus," Faye replied, playing with the peppers more than eating them. "I haven't been to Venus in a long time. We should go there."  
  
"We should have enough fuel to get to Venus, but I doubt we have enough food." Jet replied.  
  
"Then we'll starve. Anything to get off this damn rock," Faye shot back. Anything to get away from Spike. She set her chopsticks down and leaned back against the couch. "I don't know why we're even still here."  
  
"He could change his mind, Faye."  
  
"He's not going to, Jet," Faye retorted. "He's too damn stubborn to change his mind or admit when he's wrong or give a damn about anyone else." She was obviously pissed, and she gave up trying to hide it.  
  
"You went to see him, didn't you," Jet said. "today when you left. I had a feeling that was where you were going. What happened?"  
  
"Nothing I care to share, Jet." Faye stood. "Just enough to make me want to leave and never look back."  
  
"We'll leave in the morning then," Jet replied. "I'm in no mood to pilot this damn thing tonight."  
  
"Whatever," was the only reply.  
  
*****  
  
Faye leaned against the wall of the Bebop and stared up at the stars. Even with the lights of Tharsis City, she could still make out a few of the constellations. The stars were always more beautiful from space. She'd often sat up on the observation deck, staring out at the stars as they drifted through space. Spike would often join her for a cigarette, although they rarely spoke, preferring the silence of each other company rather than risk another fight.  
  
Faye enjoyed the fights. She had a feeling Spike did too.  
  
She sighed, mentally kicking herself for dredging up yet another memory of Spike. She couldn't escape him, and she realized that living on the Bebop would provide a constant source of reminders of the time when Spike was a member of their ship. Hell, Faye even missed the kid and the dog, who'd taken her advice to find a place to belong.  
  
Her gaze fell to the floor as she tossed her cigarette to the ground. She stepped forward to stub it out when she noticed a small package. Bending down, she picked up it, turning it over a few times to get a good look. The box was small and cubic. It was wrapped with purple tissue paper and tied with a small pink bow. The tag attached to the box said, "To My Dearest Faye".  
  
Faye walked back into the ship, and once seated on the couch, she ripped the box open. Inside was a small jewelry box. Faye pulled the box out, and carefully opened the lid, revealing a small diamond heart pendant attached to a gold chain.  
  
She almost dropped it.  
  
Faye blinked and looked at the necklace again. There was something oddly familiar about the pendant, but she swore she'd never seen it before. She couldn't remember owning anything so expensive – she could barely afford her gambling habits much less save money to shop for jewels.  
  
She picked up the box again, scouring it for any indication of who had left it. Her search was futile. The card had been anonymous and so was the rest of the package. She picked back up the jewelry box, and slowly removed the necklace from the holder. She hesitated for a moment, then reaching behind her neck, clasped the chain together. The necklace was not only beautiful; it fit her perfectly, the pendant resting just about her chest.  
  
Yet, again she felt like she'd worn it before, even though she had no memory of ever doing so. She decided that wasn't important. She needed to figure out who had left it for her and why. "To My Dearest Faye." As far as she was concerned, she was no one's dearest. 


	7. A sinister Plot

A/N: It's been a long time since I worked on anything! But I reread this the other day an inspiration on where to take it hit me. So I thought I'd give it another try. It may take me some time, since I'm now the mother of two twin newborns, but I'll do my best. I like the idea I came up with, so the story may appear to go in a slightly different direction than I originally intended. I should be able to make everything I already wrote work nicely thought. Enjoy!

Kajouka

---------------------------

General Cutter sat behind his large brown desk, flipping through the pages of yet another report that had landed on his desk. His scientists were thorough, detailed, and too smart for their own good. He stifled a yawn as he set down one report detailing the progress of an experiment on a new performance-enhancing drug and picked up one on the numerous effects of a new biological weapon on rats.

Cutter was one of the leading officials of Cherious Medical, the top pharmaceutical and research company on Mars. He was dressed in a crisp, clean-cut military uniform; his numerous medals of honor and status adorning the left side of his jacket. His dark, nearly black hair was buzz-cut and his square jaw was clean-shaven. The aura surrounding him was no-nonsense, and Cutter expected that every mission, every project, every assignment proceed exactly as planned. He did not tolerate mistakes. He did not accept failure. His drive for success had propelled him up the ladder at Cherious, and despite his young age of forty-two, he was at the top of the company.

His office was picture perfect. The bookshelf on the left was so organized that the volumes were in alphabetical order. His files were put away in their places, pictures on the wall were straight, and his desk was devoid of anything except the two files he was reading, a computer, a telephone, and a paperweight award he'd received a few years back. Cutter was a man of perfect organization.

Across the way a visitor's chair sat on the other side of his desk. A leather couch adorned the right wall, and a small conference table and some chairs sat in the left corner of his rather spacious office. A small window overlooking Cherious property allowed sunlight to light his office as the sun rose in the mornings.

He looked up at the sound of his phone buzzing. The sound indicated the call was from his secretary. He tapped the speaker button and spoke, "Yes?"

"Dr. Myers is here for your one o'clock appointment," she stated. She had a high pitched voice that some might find annoying. Cutter had gotten used to it over the years she had been his secretary, but for a few words that seemed to hit a nerve.

"Send him in," Cutter replied, before pressing the off button.

The door to his office cracked open and Dr. Myers slipped in. He was a short man with disheveled hair and thick glasses. He wore a white lab coat over his clothing and the collar of his striped shirt could be seen poking out the top of the lab coat. Despite the formal dress code, Myers was wearing a pair of worn tennis shoes. Cutter held back a smirk. Myers had no sense of fashion and because he was one of the smartest men Cherious employed, he could get away with wearing very nearly anything he wanted.

As Myers approached, Cutter set down the report he was reading and stood to shake the man's hand. "I hope you're bringing me good news this time," he said.

Myers took the outstretched hand, shook it, and then took a seat in the chair across from Cutter. "Oh yes. The project is progressing very well. We have begun memory trigger in the subject and it appears to be successful."

"Appears to be?" Cutter questioned. "Appears to be is not acceptable, Dr. Myers."

"Yes, Yes, I know. The data is still being analyzed, but we have confirmation that she visited her old home only a few days ago. We do not yet know the extent of the return and if it matches what we have programmed, but we will know soon. I will prepare a full report at that time."

"And the next steps in the program?"

Myers cleared his throat. "The mind is fragile, General. My team does not wish to rush the subject. Any small miscalculation could cause the experiment to fail. After four years of work, it would be shame to compromise the integrity of the subject now in order to push the results faster. I hope you understand that my team is looking to perform successfully not quickly." Myers reached up and pushed his glasses up his nose. Cutter could tell that the man was uncomfortable at the confrontation. No doubt he had been receiving criticism from the board at the lack of results for such a long project. Cutter too had been slapped on the hand a few times, but the board was not willing to cut either loose, and neither had received little more than a few harsh words. Even so, Cutter did not want to be the subject of the board's scrutiny.

"I understand that Dr. Myers, but some progress must be made. If the board begins to feel this project is a waste of their money and resources, they will cut the funding," Cutter maintained.

"If they were going to cut the funding, General, they would have. It's been four years since the first subject was awakened. The board knows this project could revolutionize what Cherious can do. The board knows with successful results we will be able to go where no other company has gone before. They are not willing to shutdown the project just because it is taking some time. You know that as well as I do." Myers's face was turning Red. Cutter knew the man was passionate about his project. Myers spent hours of overtime in the lab working. He'd never seen the man so fired up before.

"You may very well be right, Doctor, but as your superior, I expect to see some progress." His position was weak, and he suspected Myers knew that. The General didn't like feeling weak. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Perhaps you need more resources to speed up the implementation?"

"I need more subjects," Myers replied, "I am not willing to risk the main project, but tests can be performed on side subjects with little to lose. Test subjects are only good for a few weeks before we've burnt them out. That last one your men brought in was too weak. She cracked within a few days. I've told them before we need stronger subjects, ones who have survived catastrophe and lived."

"Provide me with detailed criteria and I will set my men on a search for possible matches. I don't care how many you go through and how often they crack. We will provide what you need." Cutter retorted, feeling as though Myers was insulting his ability to properly direct his men.

Myers stood, "I'd like to get back to the lab and develop the next protocol. I believe we are ready to release the final subject from the crash. I will fax you the details before we go."

"Very well," Cutter nodded. "When you are ready, I will send a team to take her to her starting location."

Cutter watched as Myers headed for the door, slipping out as silently as he slipped in.


End file.
